


Fonder

by ebbj9891



Series: In Quest Of Something [18]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-22 16:07:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2513816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebbj9891/pseuds/ebbj9891
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say absence makes the heart grow fonder; this is something Brian has been forced to learn the hard way, first with Justin and now with Gus. As he and Gus struggle with being apart so frequently, Brian tries to comfort his son by telling him a different kind of bedtime story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gus is upset about his father's imminent departure from Toronto and seeks out comfort. Brian tries to provide said comfort, but it's not the easiest task. When his first attempt goes awry, Brian tries his hand at storytelling in the hopes of making Gus feel better.

"Daddy?"

Brian looks up from his laptop to find Gus poking his head through the door. Whilst chewing on his bottom lip forlornly, Gus mumbles, "Can I come sleep in here with you?"

"Sure," Brian agrees, peeling the blankets back. Gus slips through the door, closes it quietly, then scampers across the room and dives under the covers. As Gus cuddles close, Brian glances at the time. It's past midnight. "It's awful late, Sonny Boy. What are you still doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep," Gus says softly, burrowing into Brian's side. "I wanted to see you before you went. Moms said I wouldn't be awake in time."

Reminded of his impending departure, Brian groans inwardly. His flight to New York leaves at 5am, which is exactly four hours and fifty-three minutes from now. Factoring in the suitcase he has yet to pack, the shower he definitely needs to take, and the cab ride to the airport, that might leave him with an hour to sleep. If he falls asleep  _immediately,_ that is, which is obviously out of the question now. Gus is wide awake and clearly gearing up for something; maybe a bedtime story or two. Or, if Brian's being realistic, five or six. Gus has inherited Brian's stubborn tendency towards being over-indulgent. At least it's only picture books for now; Brian dreads to think what it might look like ten years from now, when Gus is sixteen. Fuck, he's probably going to be a goddamn handful.

Leaning in to peer at Brian's laptop, Gus asks brightly, "What are you working on?"

"A pitch for a new client," Brian explains, stroking Gus' hair gently. It looks exactly like his hair, but it still feels so baby-soft and impossibly fine. "Sunshine helped with this one."

"What did he help with?"

Brian exits the draft of his speech for the meeting and pulls up the mock-ups. "He did these illustrations, then he and Tom worked on the layout together."

"I like Justin's work," Gus says, smiling up at Brian. "It's so nice."

"It is," Brian agrees, pressing a kiss to Gus' forehead. "Now, how about a bedtime story before we go to sleep?"

"I don't wanna," Gus whines, scrunching his face up. 

"You don't wanna what?"

"I don't wanna go to sleep. And I don't want a bedtime story. If I do any of that, then you'll leave and I'll wake up and you won't be here." Gus presses his face against Brian's side and mumbles into it, "I want you to stay."

Brian winces. He tries to power through the guilt and says, "You know I would if I could. But I have to go home."

Gus sighs shakily and clings to him. In a very small, trembly voice, he replies, "I know."

There's no powering through the guilt this time. It's all-consuming and leaves Brian aching. He closes his laptop and sets it on the nightstand, then hoists Gus into his lap. "You know, kiddo, absence makes the heart grow fonder."

Gus blinks at him, his lip wobbling as he asks, "What does that mean?"

"It means that being apart from a person can make you realise how important they are to you."

This sounded good in Brian's head and even sounded good enough as he was saying it, but apparently Gus feels very differently. Brian watches in horror as his son's face falls. Sounding shattered, Gus asks tearfully, "So am I not important when we're together?"

"That's not what I meant," Brian protests desperately. He hugs Gus nice and close. "Sonny Boy, that's not what I meant at all. You're always important to me. I  _always_ love you, no matter where we are."

Whimpering, Gus asks, "So what did you mean?"

"I mean," Brian sighs, then stalls by nuzzling the top of Gus' head. "I mean that even though it's really hard to be apart from you, it makes the time we do get together that much more wonderful."

Gus gazes up at him with tear-filled eyes. "So it wouldn't be wonderful if I got to see you every day?"

Well, it's finally absolutely official: he's a fucking monster. Brian has no idea what the fuck to do. He starts rambling, promising Gus that's not what he meant whilst wiping away the flood of tears that's arrived. Every single teardrop makes him hate himself a little more. Finally, after babbling through a slew of  _I love yous_ and other ineffective attempts to reassure Gus, Brian blurts out, "Take me and Sunshine, for instance."

Gus ceases sobbing and looks at Brian curiously. That's something. Brian grabs a tissue and dabs Gus' face. "Have I ever talked to you about when we were living apart?"

"No," Gus mumbles. "But mommy and I knew you were sad. You came to visit and you looked all miserable."

"I was," Brian admits, smoothing Gus' hair back. "Do you want to hear the whole story?"

"Yes," Gus says, nodding eagerly. "Yes please."

"Okay, c'mere." Brian rearranges himself so he's almost lying down and reclining against the pillows. He scoops Gus up and pulls him close, so that Gus is draped over his chest. This is how they always lie when they take their naps together or when Gus begs to sleep in the same bed. As Gus folds his hands on top of Brian's heart and props his chin on top of his interlocked fingers, Brian feels a gentle tug of pure affection. He meets Gus' intrigued gaze and says, "Here's what happened."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian reflects on the time he and Justin spent in a long distance relationship.

"... and tomorrow... I have no idea what I'm going to do tomorrow. Maybe go see another gallery or something. I feel like I could spend the next century here and not even scrape the surface of the art world."

And so ends Justin's hour-long monologue about how goddamn amazing New York is. Sunshine has been talking non-fucking-stop about his new home and how in love with it he is. That's what it is, isn't it? This isn't a phase. This isn't a pitstop. This is Justin's life from this point forward. Brian realised that about ten minutes into their very one-sided phone call. He can't remember Justin ever having sounded so blissfully happy before. Even though he's on the verge of freaking out, Brian can't help but smile. As distressing as it is to realise he may have lost Justin to New York, it's infinitely rewarding to hear Justin sound so happy.

"Brian?" A trace of guilt lingers in Justin's tone. "Are you still there?"

"I'm here," Brian replies, staring up at the loft's bedroom ceiling. The bed still smells like Justin.  _Their_ bed. Well, it was theirs. He doesn't really know what to call it now. All he can think is:  _I'm here. I'm here and you're there. So where the fuck are we?_

"Sorry for talking your ear off."

"Don't be. It sounds fantastic."

"It is," Justin says quietly. "Except... I miss you. Like, a lot. I know it's only been a couple of days-"

"I miss you too," Brian blurts out, overcome with relief. Thank fuck - when he'd woken up to discover Justin gone, he'd been instantly plagued by fears of being forgotten. He's infinitely relieved that that's not the case and that he's not alone in longing for his absent partner.

He thinks he can hear a smile in Justin's voice as Justin asks shyly, "So when can you visit?"

A spark of excitement flickers through Brian. "You want me to?"

As though it's the most obvious thing in the world, Justin exclaims incredulously, "Of course I do! Please, will you?"

Smiling even wider, Brian teases, "You said New York had everything."

Without missing a beat, Justin replies tenderly, "Everything but you."

Brian never thought of himself as someone capable of melting or swooning. He has always preferred to believe he's immune to such ridiculous things. But as always, Justin would have to prove him wrong. There's something about the softness of Justin's tone and the way the words seemed to be laced with desire... yeah, he's fucking swooning. How fucking embarrassing. Now he's kind of glad that Justin's gone, because at least he's not going to witness the ridiculous spectacle that is Brian Kinney swooning. How is it even  _possible_ to swoon, when he's lying flat on his fucking back? Well, somehow it is possible, because he swoons, then he lies there melting. Brian groans inwardly. He's so utterly fucked.

"You're going to come, right?"

This time, there's doubt lurking in Justin's tone. Brian wants to eradicate that immediately, if not sooner. He reaches for his planner and flicks through it. "I can make it there... not this weekend, but the next?"

"Yes!"

Eyeing the meetings Cynthia has scheduled for that week, Brian suggests, "I could fly in that Friday and stay until Monday. Is that okay?"

_"Yes!"_

He wishes he could see the smile on Justin's face. It sounds like one of those blindingly bright ones that always makes Brian's heart swell inside his chest. "Sunshine?"

"Yeah?"

Brian closes his eyes. He's alone in the loft, but nonetheless he lowers his voice as he says, "I love you."

He pictures Justin grinning even wider; it warms Brian through. That warmth intensifies as Justin replies happily, "I love you, too."

*

When he arrives in New York and meets Justin at his newly rented studio space, Brian's suspicion is immediately confirmed: Justin's home isn't Pittsburgh any longer, it's New York. Brian sits at Justin's workbench, watching and listening as Justin shows off all of his latest work. It's as clear as day to see that Justin is more happy and confident and driven than ever before. He fits right in; not just at the studio, but everywhere. Their weekend is spent touring Justin's favourite places, all of which seem to fit him like a glove. Brian is utterly torn - he's so happy for Justin that he feels like he could burst, but he's so fucking frightened of what this means for them that he feels about ready to keel over.

That's what he needs to puzzle out. What the fuck does this mean for them? Since Justin left, Brian's fears have revolved around losing him to New York. But now that they're together, nothing feels lost whatsoever. Other than that they're criss-crossing different boroughs of a largely unfamiliar city, rather than spending time at Babylon or Woody's or other Pittsburgh locales, everything feels normal. In fact, everything feels fucking superb. They can barely keep their hands off each other all weekend; wherever they are, they're either holding hands, or arm-in-arm, or kissing. Since Justin is between apartments and sleeping at his studio, Brian gets them a room at the Mondrian and they spend every night fucking tirelessly. They feel as together as they ever have, if not more so. It's certainly felt 'more so' ever since Babylon. How's that for a silver lining around a hideously dark, looming cloud? Babylon may have left Brian with nightmares and a whole new set of anxieties, but it also brought him closer to Justin and Gus. And the rest of the family, too, he supposes. But lately he's had a severe case of tunnel vision, where all he can think about is Gus in Toronto and Justin in New York.

When it's time for Brian to leave and they're waiting for a cab to arrive, Justin joins their hands together and asks softly, "You'll come back soon, right?"

"Of course," Brian promises, kissing Justin's forehead. He means it. He has no idea where they're going to go from here, but fuck it - all that he can think of is coming back and doing this all over again. 

"I..." Justin breathes deep, as though he's on the verge of saying something important. All Brian can think is _please don't end this._ Just as it seems Justin is about to speak, he glances past Brian and sighs a little. Then he smiles up at Brian and says quietly, "Your cab's here."

Brian turns and glances at the waiting cab. He hands his suitcase to the bellboy, who runs it over to the driver. Turning back to Justin, he asks, "What were you going to say?"

"Only that I love you," Justin says, chuckling lightheartedly.

"Only?" Brian assumes a stern expression. "You know, Sunshine, saying 'I love you' is something you ought to take very seriously."

" _You're_ lecturing _me_ on saying 'I love you'?" Justin laughs and smacks his arm. "Asshole. Go on, then... show me how it ought to be said."

Brian laughs, then cups Justin's face in his hands and kisses him soundly. As he pulls away, he stares at Justin, whose eyes remained closed. Brian kisses his forehead and whispers urgently, "I love you. And I promise, I'll come back soon."

Justin opens his eyes and stares at Brian intensely, a soft smile forming on his face. He draws Brian into a snug embrace and whispers, "I'll be counting on it."

*

The next visit is even better. Justin meets him at the airport and they fuck in the bathroom, because it feels utterly impossible to wait so much as another second. When Brian comes, slamming Justin harder against the wall in the process, Justin comes as well, biting down on Brian's shoulder to muffle his ecstatic groan. Between gasps, Justin whispers, "I missed you so much."

It feels so fucking good to hear that. Brian crushes his mouth to Justin's and kisses him so intensely it leaves their lips swollen and slightly bruised. In the time between his first visit and this one, Brian has thought of their relationship as dangling in limbo.  _If this is limbo,_ he thinks, delighted as Justin moans into his mouth,  _sign me the fuck up._

This time, they don't leave the hotel. They each make half-hearted suggestions  _(let's go to that gallery you told me about; want to grab a bite to eat?; there's this great cinema you'd love, with all of these old films...),_ but none of them pan out. Instead, they indulge in a marathon fuckfest that lasts the entire three days Brian is in town for. There are brief breaks for room service and sleep, but they're both intent on keeping such interruptions to a minimum.

When it's time for Brian to leave, they hug for ten whole minutes. It feels torturous when they finally part. Brian almost misses his flight but he finds he doesn't care. In fact, all he can think is,  _would that really be so bad?_

*

Time as Brian once knew it ceases to exist. Instead of thinking of it in seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, he divides it into two categories: time spent with Justin, and the time that exists in between.

The time in between isn't so bad. They call and text almost constantly. Justin emails him, too, with photos and scans of his latest work and tales of what he's been up to. Daphne shows up to Kinnetik once a week with gifts, which have arrived in the care packages Justin sends her way every Friday. It proves most comforting - all of these little reminders that Justin hasn't forgotten him.

They get  _really_ good at phone sex. Brian begins to prefer it to picking up tricks, who only seem to end up boring him. Justin is never boring. In fact, Justin's dirty talk is second to none and endlessly thrilling. Brian soon grows addicted to hearing lust-riddled obscenities pour out of his partner's filthy fucking mouth. It gets so good, it's almost as good as being together. Almost.

But all things considered, it's still time in between. Brian lives for the time they have together -  _properly_ together, where he can see Justin and touch him and feel really close to him. That's the thing - Brian can't survive on the calls and texts and emails and gifts alone. He craves Justin's physical presence, so much so that it begins to hurt. Badly, too - there are days when he holes himself up in the loft with nothing but booze for company. It's a passable anaesthetic. It sees him through well enough. Other nights, he goes out and passes the time in the back room at Babylon. At first it works nicely as a distraction, but soon enough Brian finds himself preoccupied by thoughts of Justin. So back to the loft and its oversupply of booze he goes.

Since Justin can't afford to visit Pittsburgh all that often, Brian finds himself running off to New York again and again. Sometimes he'll finish his days at Kinnetik by browsing for flights, which then prove so tempting that he can't  _not_ buy the tickets. Sometimes he'll get in the car and decide he'd rather drive six hours through the night than waste it fucking strangers. One night, after a particularly steamy session of phone sex, Brian finds he feels oddly dissatisfied and disturbingly lonely. The next thing he knows, he's in New York again, knocking on Justin's door. For a long while, there's no response. Then he hears a creak from inside the apartment, as though Justin's hesitating on the other side of the door. Shit. This is a shitty building in a shittier neighbourhood, and it's two in the fucking morning. Justin's probably standing on the other side of the door, scared half to death by the unexpected knocking. Brian knocks again and calls out, which is met with a muffled yet clearly delighted,  _"Brian?!"_ The door swings open and there's Justin, smiling that sunny smile. It soon grows even more radiant; Brian leans on the doorframe, smirks at Justin, and purrs, "That was a good rehearsal we had earlier. You ready for the live show?"

All of these trips to New York - whether planned or impromptu - are always very warmly received by Justin, but they don't earn him a great reputation back in Pittsburgh. Well, that's not entirely true since Daphne and Jennifer are very pleased. They don't get to see Justin all that often and don't hear from him as much as they'd like to, so they rely on Brian to bring home stories. As for everyone else... well, fuck everyone else. His frequent departures and the subsequent miserable returns begin to earn him a lot of concerned looks from his asshole friends and more than one solemn 'talking to' by Michael. He blocks out the looks and the lectures. It's not like any of them know shit about the situation. It's not like they're going to do any good with their condescending bullshit. Justin will still be in New York, he'll still be here, and they'll still be in this weird fucking grey area where Brian can't quite get comfortable. They're together, but not together enough. They're happy, but not as happy as they could be. Brian doesn't know how to bridge either of those gaps - all he knows is how to slap on a bandaid. Drinking alone in the loft? Bandaid. Fucking in the back room at Babylon? Bandaid. Running off to New York every chance he gets? Bandaid. Sending Justin gifts and relying on calls, texts, emails, visits from Daphne? Bandaids, bandaids, bandaids. Endless fucking bandaids.

*

Then, one night, he calls Justin and everything falls to pieces. Justin isn't nearly as happy as Brian had believed him to be. In fact, he sounds utterly fucking miserable.

Brian slaps on a few bandaids; he flies to New York at a moment's notice and they spend the night together. It doesn't help nearly as much as he wants it to. When it's time for him to leave, he's shouldering a massive amount of guilt. He's leaving Justin behind, knowing full well Justin isn't happy. He's returning to a life that pales in comparison to the kind of life he thinks they could have together in New York. He's coming 'home' with a giant fucking hole in his chest, raw and agonisingly hollow.

That night after work, he goes back to the loft, lies on what used to be their bed, and simply stares at the ceiling. Justin doesn't call. He doesn't call Justin. What would they even say at this point? Brian worries that the first words out of his mouth would be:  _this isn't working._ It's not that he wants it to end, it's just that he's fed up with pretending they're capable of maintaining a long distance relationship. Long distance relationships are  _bullshit._ They're certainly not fitting for two people who crave each other's physical presence. Brian knows he's not alone in that; it's soundly evidenced every time they see each other now, in the way Justin grasps at him and clings to him, holding onto Brian with an almost unthinkable intensity.

He sees three options: ask Justin to come home, end it, or join him in New York. Brian would sooner throw himself into oncoming traffic than choose options one or two. He has entertained thoughts of dragging Justin back to Pittsburgh, but that's what it would be, wouldn't it? Dragging. Justin doesn't want to come home. Justin wants to be in New York. Justin belongs there. Even worse, Brian has also entertained thoughts of ending it. It makes him feel nauseous with guilt, but the thoughts persist. After all, isn't there a very real chance that Justin would be better off? He could move on and live his life in New York. He might be happy like that. Maybe not straight away, but given some time and space...

... but Brian doesn't want to give Justin time and space. And if the past few months have proven anything, it's that Justin doesn't want that, either. Otherwise, why would he keep calling and writing and sending gifts? Why would he constantly invite Brian for visits? No, Justin still wants him. It takes Brian a while to convince himself of that; he goes twenty rounds with himself over it. Eventually, he manages to drum it into his head:  _Justin still wants you, you fucking asshole. Don't you dare bail on him now._

So that leaves one option. One impossibly daunting option which Brian isn't sure is a good idea or a safe bet. Fuck it, there's no easy answer to any of this. He grabs his sleeping pills, tosses a few back, and slips into comforting darkness. 

The next day, he arrives at Kinnetik early and throws himself headfirst into work. It's a good thing, too, since everyone else is completely fucking incompetent. Brian spends half the morning fixing everyone's mistakes and snarling at poor Cynthia. She's absurdly patient with him through it all. He ought to be grateful, but it only ends up pissing him off all the more. He really doesn't appreciate being pitied and she seems to be doing an awful lot of that lately. It gets so bad that he's about ready to bite her head off, but then - thankfully - Lindsay shows up unexpectedly. It's such a relief to see her that he actually feels light-headed. Momentarily elated, Brian practically dives into her arms.

The elation fades quickly; it never lasts, lately. How can it? As Lindsay starts talking about Gus, it becomes painfully apparent how much Brian misses his son. He knows it's only a matter of time until she starts talking about Justin. He waits, almost sick with anticipation, and utterly sunken with longing. Fortunately, Lindsay doesn't throw any pitying looks or insipid lectures his way. It's not like it is with anyone else; she talks to him calmly and kindly, which soothes Brian. He allows himself to let down his guard and gradually leans into the conversation, hoping that some clarity will come from it. He's about to confess all to her when Cynthia arrives with a delivery man, who's carrying a massive parcel.

It's a painting from Justin. Brian is utterly enthralled by it; he stares at the painting until it's all he sees. Other than Justin himself, it's the most beautiful thing Brian has ever seen. In amidst all the magnificent colour and hypnotic detail, there they are, together, which is exactly what they ought to be. There's no returning to that particular moment, though, so where to from here?

There's a letter, too. Brian listens as Lindsay reads it aloud and feels his heart swell up in his chest, more so than ever before. Justin's words play over and over in his mind, revolving while Brian stares at the painting, totally immersed in the image of them standing together, staring into each other's eyes, as though they only see each other.

That's when he knows. That's when he realises there aren't three options; there's only one. Lindsay touches his arm and speaks up gently, and as she voices what he's been thinking about for months, Brian knows without a shadow of a doubt what he has to do.

"Go to him."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian draws the story to a close and tries to get Gus settled for bedtime.

"And so I decided to move to New York," Brian concludes softly, smiling at Gus. "It was really hard being apart from Justin. But in the end, it made us realise what we have together, and now we appreciate it all the more. It's just like the saying: absence makes the heart grow fonder."

Gus smiles back sleepily. "That's a nice story."

"Glad you liked it," Brian murmurs, watching as Gus blinks slowly. It shouldn't be too long now until Gus drops off to sleep; the poor kid looks absolutely exhausted. As he strokes Gus' hair soothingly, a thought occurs to Brian. He's just poured his heart out to Gus, which is great and all, but there aren't many other people that Brian would trust with this level of insight into what those months of distance were like for him and Justin. Gus does have somewhat of a big mouth and a tendency to blurt out whatever is on his mind. Smiling at Gus, Brian says gently, "This is just a story for you and me, alright?"

Nodding in understanding, Gus offers his pinky finger to Brian. Brian laughs softly and hooks his own pinky around Gus', and they perform a quick pinky swear. "Thanks, kiddo. There are some things I only want to tell you and Justin, okay?" 

"Okay, daddy. I think it was very romantic, you know." Gus drops his head down onto Brian's chest. "What did you do on all your visits?"

Brian hesitates momentarily. Of course, in heavily censoring most of the story, a lot of what he told Gus was very vague. He hugs Gus close and tries to think of all the things he and Justin did on those visits that didn't involve fucking.

"We did lots of things," he recalls quietly, "We went to lots of restaurants. Justin took me to lots of galleries."

"Justin loves galleries," Gus says with a yawn. "Just like mommy."

"Mmm," Brian hums, nodding. "He found this cinema, too, that he knew I'd like. And we spent a lot of time at his studio. I liked seeing what he was working on and watching him paint. And we went dancing. We went dancing a lot."

"Dancing, like that movie from yesterday? With Fred and Ginger?"

"No," Brian says, quickly swallowing a laugh. The dancing they did whilst out clubbing was very, very different to that. "It was another kind of dancing."

"Oh," says Gus, sounding disappointed.

"Although... we did dance like that once," Brian admits very quietly. "Years ago, at Justin's prom."

Gus perks right up. "Oh?"

"That's a story for another time." Brian smiles and touches Gus' chin. "Bedtime, Sonny Boy."

"Bedtime," Gus agrees reluctantly, his eyes drooping shut. "You'll be gone when I wake up, huh?"

"I will be." Brian takes a deep breath, steadying himself. He repositions Gus on the right side of the bed and tucks him in carefully. "We'll see each other really soon, though, okay? I promise."

"Cross your heart," Gus implores, grabbing Brian's hand.

"Cross my heart," Brian vows, letting Gus guide his hand over his chest in the shape of a cross. "Now, time for you to get some sleep."

"Okay," Gus agrees. He smiles at Brian and asks softly, "What was that thing you said before? About feeling fonder?"

Brian cradles Gus' face in the palm of his hand and says gently, "Absence makes the heart grow fonder."

"Right. I think I get it now," Gus murmurs. He snuggles under the blankets and closes his eyes. "Night, daddy."

"Night, Sonny Boy." Brian leans in close and kisses Gus' forehead. "Sleep tight, okay? I love you very much."

"Love you too," Gus mumbles drowsily, and then... five, four, three, two, one. Brian's countdown is timed to perfection; by zero, Gus is sound asleep. Thank fuck for that - it's way too late for the kid to be up. Brian glances at the clock and cringes. Not only is it way past Gus' bedtime, Brian's own bedtime has come and gone. There's no time for him to sleep now if he's going to make the flight back to New York.

He makes sure Gus is tucked in and sleeping soundly before he starts packing and getting ready to leave. Soon enough, Brian's suitcase is full and he's showered and ready to go. He gives Gus one last kiss then sneaks downstairs, mindful to remain quiet so as not to wake Lindsay, Melanie, or J.R.

He waits outside for the cab, breathing streams of steam into the cool nighttime air. It's a struggle not to fall asleep on Lindsay and Melanie's porch. Maybe, if he's lucky, he'll get some sleep on the plane. As Brian glimpses the cab rolling down the street, his phone starts vibrating in his pocket. It's Justin. Brian answers it and asks with a laugh, "Isn't it a little early for you to be up, Sunshine? I thought it was typical for artists to live a life of leisure and sleep in until midday."

"Fuck off," Justin chuckles. "I woke up early because the sunrise is supposed to be incredible this morning. I thought I might paint it or photograph it or something. It might make a nice piece for my show."

"Sounds good," Brian yawns, piling into the cab. He asks the driver to take him to the airport, then returns his focus to Justin. "I'm going to be in meetings all day. I'll see you tonight, right?"

"Yeah. But text me when you land, okay?"

"I will." Brian pauses, listening to the hushed sound of Justin's breathing on the other end of the line. "See you tonight, Sunshine."

A smile shining in his voice, Justin replies, "Can't wait."

**The End**


End file.
